


Haunted

by Orchyd Constyne (slarmstrong)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3335321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slarmstrong/pseuds/Orchyd%20Constyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the price of love is our soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ilye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilye/gifts).



"I know who it is you see, Elrond," Glorfindel whispered as his robe fell from his shoulders and revealed pale perfection. The Peredhel knelt on the bed, nude and hard, with glazed pewter eyes, but there was a sadness in that distant gaze. "I will do this for you, but you must know what it will cost me," he warned Elrond as he mounted the bed.

Elrond nodded. "'Tis only fair," he agreed, though his eyes shimmered with tears as they focused on the Elda. He did not want to hear his dear friend's words, did not want to know what this night would take from Glorfindel.

Petal soft lips pressed to the pulse in Elrond's throat and warm hands touched his chilled flesh. "I have loved you since I first walked into that audience chamber. My heart has burned for you for centuries. To now have your body scars my soul; to know it is neither my body nor my face your heart mourns wounds me deeply. If I do this, Elrond, I will die inside, but I am willing to suffer that death night after night if your pain is eased. Do you accept such a trade?"

His need and sorrow eased in exchange for the loss of Glorfindel's light, the loss of his soul. Glorfindel continued to caress Elrond's thighs and buttocks with his hands, his lips and tongue teasing Elrond's throat. Lust clouded his better judgment, and he took what the Elda offered. "Aye, I accept," the Half-Elf panted needily, his fingers digging into Glorfindel's mane to press those wet, hot lips firmly to his skin. "I accept," he repeated before lifting Glorfindel's face and covering the moist mouth with his own.

Glorfindel took control of this kiss, plunging his tongue deep into Elrond's mouth. It was not slow, loving play Elrond wanted. It was not what the Elf whom he pretended Glorfindel was would do. Elrond whimpered into the kiss; his eyes closed as he wove a fantasy in his head. Glorfindel broke the kiss, leaving Elrond gasping, and pushed the Peredhel onto his back so he could tease the dusky peaks of Elrond's chest. His tongue lapped at his nipples and he nipped at them with his teeth until they were dark red and sore. "You are so beautiful in your wantonness," he recited to Elrond, speaking words of a lover long gone from Elrond's side. "When I kiss you, you writhe in anticipation; when I bite you, you writhe in pained need; when I take you, you will scream my name."

"Yes," Elrond moaned, lost in memory and sensation. His back bowed when Glorfindel's slick lips passed over his sex, sucking him in impossibly deep and swallowing him several times before sitting up. He had just taken a breath when that mouth fell upon him again and rough fingers fondled his tight sac. He screamed as his muscles went tight, his hands gripping the locks of gold that tickled his flushed flesh.

There was a darkness closing in over Glorfindel's heart, a sparkle to his eyes he knew was fading as he impaled Elrond with two oiled fingers. Elrond rested on hands and knees, and his length bobbed heavily between his legs. He had waited so many years to find release in the velvet heat of Elrond's body, and tonight he would finally be granted his wish. But the price was high... so very high...

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and smeared the viscous fluid over his shaft. Elrond rocked his body slightly, softly begging to be taken, to be made to scream. He whispered and sobbed words of worship, of devotion, of everlasting love, and each soft word tore another piece of Glorfindel's heart from him. When tonight was over, Glorfindel knew there would be nothing left of himself--Elrond would have stripped him of all he hoped, all he loved. All for a fading memory.

But he loved Elrond, and for Elrond he would challenge all, change all, rework the past into the present, and offer the future.

Twin cries echoed in the room as Glorfindel slid to the hilt inside Elrond's tight passage. He did not wait, did not savor the moment of connection he had dreamed of, because there was no connection. Not for Elrond. He withdrew and thrust again, clasping Elrond's hips in a painful grip of nails, and continued to recite his lines. "You are hot and so tight, melethen," he said, the words falling from his lips like white-hot metal. "Your body fits mine perfectly, welcomes me as if we were made for one another."

"We are," Elrond replied, slamming himself back onto Glorfindel's thickness. "You are mine as I am yours."

His fingers spasmed with Elrond's words. They were not to _him_ ; no, they were to a ghost. "I love you," he grunted as he thrust more forcefully into Elrond's body. And he meant the words--not as the ghostly Elf he played for his Lord, but as the Elf-lord of long ago who stared wistfully at stormy eyes and raven hair, wishing he could, for one night, possess the Half-Elf.

Glorfindel reached under Elrond's body and gripped the sticky shaft, stroking it with powerful, sure movements. Elrond threw his head back, keening his pleasure to any and all who would hear him. The passage around his sex clenched, quivered, and Glorfindel could no longer hold himself in check. He cried his anguish, his loss, in long, salty spurts inside his lover, and tears soon fell down his cheeks as Elrond's own seed flowed over his hand and the name crushed his spirit.

*****

"He will never love you," Erestor warned Lindir. "He is Elrond's bedmate."

Lindir lifted his chin defiantly and glared at Erestor. "Just because he is Elrond's bedmate does not mean he cannot love me," he said, turning his gaze back to the famed Balrog-slayer. Glorfindel was on the training field in a deadly dance with one of his pupils, swords flying and instructions called out with each blow landed.

Erestor leaned against the balustrade that Lindir sat upon. "No, but there is something, Lindir, something between them. Elrond does not look at him, but I know they share a bed. And there is no light in Glorfindel, no life. It is as if he has died once more."

"I love him, Erestor," Lindir said softly. "I think I have since the moment I came to Elrond's audience chamber and saw him there with his gold hair and sapphire eyes--he is almost like the sky and sun."

"Aye," Erestor admitted. "But, the sun and sky smile down upon us. Glorfindel, though, has never smiled. Not since the night Oropher died."

Lindir looked at Erestor. "Was he the King's lover?"

"No," Erestor said softly, his eyes still intent on the shining figure on the training field. "Elrond was."

The End


End file.
